Page 15 of The Hunting Moon
But it’s like Erica set her a challenge, and now she has to see it through. She also can’t help but wonder what sort of place Erica might retreat to. Her uniform of three-inch heels would not be well suited to this ladder.
Soon enough, the ladder reaches a metal landing that hugs the rooftop’s edge. Winnie hauls herself onto the platform, then hops three iron steps onto the gently sloping roof.
Where she discovers that someone else is already there.
He lies on his back, one leg crooked up while the other hangs down. Heholds a vape, and a beer bottle stands at attention nearby, its cap intact and condensation gathering on the glass like a rainstorm. To Winnie’s surprise, he still wears his suit from the funeral, though the jacket is off and now he’s just in the white button-up tucked into black pants.
Even in the darkness, Winnie can see that his eyes are glossy and bloodshot, and it occurs to Winnie in a vague sort ofaha!that the lines of him are fuzzier than she’s used to. As if he’s a drawing she has only just begun shaping, mere pencil markings on a page.
Maybe, all those times she thought Jay was high, he wasn’t.
Right now, he is unquestionably high.
Jay’s eyebrows lift at the sight of Winnie, but he doesn’t sit up. “You are the last person I expected to see coming up that ladder.” His voice is rough; Winnie can’t tell if it’s from the vape or grief.
Probably both.
“Sorry to disappoint you.” She almost turns around right there. But then decides even a stoned Jay is better than being howled at by fake werewolves.
She can’t help but wonder, though, if Erica knew Jay was up here when she pointed out the open window.
And she can’t help but wonder what it would mean if Erica did know. This isdefinitelya better place to make out than in the forest, and though Winnie hates herself for it, an uncomfortable heat surges up her neck at the thought of all the various people Jay might have brought here over the years.
She stomps across the roof. Her jacket swings open; night air sweeps against her stomach.
And she’s pretty sure Jay’s eyebrows rise an inch more at the sight of her skin.
To her vast annoyance, the heat in her neck reaches her face as she drops to a seat beside him.
In a rustle of black wool and white cotton, Jay finally deigns to sit up. He smells like weed. Wind pulls at his hair. “Beer?” He offers Winnie the bottle.
“Of course not,” she snaps.
Which only makes him laugh, a sound like a wintery forest sigh. “What are you doing here, Wednesday Winona Wednesday?”
“Don’t use my full name.” She glares. “And what do you mean? It’s a party. People attend parties.”
“Imean,” he drawls, “this is not exactly your scene.”
“I’m a Luminary again. Therefore, it is my scene, Jay No Middle Name Friday.”
“Is it though?” He takes a long drag on his vape. Holds the breath in his lungs. Then extends the vape Winnie’s way.
Her glare deepens to vicious.
And he smiles, chest still expanded and breath still held. “That,” he offers eventually as vape smoke drifts out over his teeth, “is what I’m talking about.”
“Ugh, Jay.” She jerks her gaze away from him and stares out over the trees. She was so distracted by him, she hasn’t even bothered to take in the view.
And what a view.
Woods stretch toward the river before opening up to reveal a sliver of glossy water. The moon’s reflection drags long, a waxing crescent turned lucent snake. Then it’s more trees and the sky, big and open and for once not clotted by clouds.
Meanwhile, far at the edges of what she can see, Winnie spots the lights of downtown, twinkling and warm. Little promises that you can be safe there, that the forest can’t get you if you’ll only step inside.
But none of them can be trusted. They’re just swamp fires pretending to be fairies, and they’re even worse liars than Winnie is.
She hugs her knees to her chest. “I’m sorry I don’t like smoking and drinking,” she mutters. “It just doesn’t appeal to me.”
